


Every Which Way

by JohnlockAndATardis



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Demons, F/F, F/M, Polyamorous Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockAndATardis/pseuds/JohnlockAndATardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coralee Strand is alive, Richard Strand knew all this time, and Alex Reagan is on the cusp of falling apart for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     It was raining. To be fair, it was always raining in the Pacific Northwest. The skies had been in a near-perpetual state of dreary grayness since she had moved here after college, broken by the rare burst of sunlight shattering the eerie atmosphere the weather provided. But there was something somehow even more... Ominous, about the way that it looked as she and Strand pulled into the parking lot outside of the office building which bore the Daeva Corps logo on an otherwise unremarkable sign at the edge of the property. Perhaps it was the mood between them setting the tone for the day, or maybe it was her own mental insistence that she not let her own hopes be driven up to high. Mystery corporations were after all, in her experience, very mysterious. But nevertheless, she had come here to do a job, and that was a task she intended on completing.

     They stepped together out of the car -his, it was much nicer and much more comfortable- and onto the damp pavement, finding themselves in a parking lot which, unlike the one at the PNWS studio, displayed a remarkable lack of potholes or other such wear. Before them stood a nondescript building, exactly the sort of urban camouflage a company run by Thomas Warren would employ. Together in the quiet they walked, huddled uncomfortably close together beneath her small black umbrella, their footsteps falling in line as they strained not to bump shoulders. Outside of the building, Alex could see a large number of men, and just as she meant to point his out to Strand, the group's focus turned their way. Her footsteps slowed

     "Are those... Do you think that's a security team?" her voice chimed out, displaying what she hoped would be to her listeners only a small, reasonable amount of fear. A dribble of concern, really.

     "That's an awful lot of security."

     "They can't be for us, can they?"

     "They are coming this way." Strand seemed worried as well, he held it about his tensed shoulders and his eyes, in the arm that had come about her to hold her hip, as though warning her to slow. Alex swallowed. Hard.

     "They have guns... Do you think they're police?"

     "They're not police," Richard warned, before the quiet of the day became suddenly broken by the whining screech of tires, so out of place that it might have seemed comical were it not for the gloomy day, the approaching men, and the rather large black van which was the source. Strand drew her back and onto the curb as the sliding door of the passenger side was cast open with a great force, the figure of a woman entrenched in heavy shadows appearing from within.

     "Get in the van," she demanded sternly, urgently, an insistence upon her tongue. 

     "I don't think so," came Alex's sharp reply.

     "Get into the van if you want to live."

     There was a rebuttal on her lips, quick to come, a threat perhaps in response to the one seemingly made against her life. But then, just for a moment, Doctor Strand's eyes met her own. There was a sort of reassurance within their depths, one that made her trust the guiding hand which came to her elbow, urging her forth towards the unknown.

     "Get into the van, Alex." He spoke seriously, sternly, like an imposing father figure rather than... Whatever he had become to her. Casting one last look at the men, still coming closer, their hands upon their guns as though in a war zone, she ducked into the vehicle, pulling Richard with her by the fabric of his shirt, fingers holding on to him even after the van door slammed shut and they went skidding off again. She watched the metal interior of the vehicle tremble as their tires pressed against the wet pavement, still holding his shirt, and when she spoke she felt very much a child, her voice soft and uncertain.

     "What's going on?"

     "Alex..." For less than a second he halted, looked at her as one looks at the water below them before they dive for the first time. "I'd like you to meet Coralee."

     Fingers unfurled. Alex swallowed hard, pushed herself back a bit, a blush creeping across her face. She averted her eyes, even as the other woman smiled warmly her way.

     "Hello Alex."

     "Oh."

     Oh god. She felt suddenly embarrassed, an emotion which ran white hot through her. This was the story she had been looking for, the sort of lead a journalist only dreams of, but she was lost in a sense of shame that burned through her, furious and unrelenting. The way Coralee watched her, calm and patient, it... It unsettled Alex, reminded her of her childhood, when her mother would be waiting for her at home, getting back after her curfew. The way they both knew she had done something wrong, except Mrs. Reagan would always wait for her to say it first.

     Yeah, it was a lot like that. Except Alec couldn't think of anything explicitly wrong she had done.... Well, maybe once or twice... Broadcasted to millions. Available for anyone on the internet... But she had always kept it professional between she and Richard, as professional as Alex Reagan can.

     And besides, the look was most certainly different in one way. Alex's mother, no matter how furious a woman she could be in the times of Alex's teenage years (deservedly so) had never looked at her like she wanted to tear her to pieces and put her back together again to see what she'd become.

     It was disturbing how many shivers ran down Alex's spine at the thought.


	2. Chapter 2

     Perhaps it was the years on the run, or maybe she had always been that way, but Coralee Strand was cautious. She was as alert as a bloodhound and possessed the attentiveness of a creature much smaller than her tall, leggy stature, used to fleeing from predators who sought to make her prey. Everything about her was measured, even, and ultimately precise. It was this that Alex attributed to their miraculous ability to not be pulled over by city police fleeing from what she could only assume was an army coming after them. Coralee gave direction to the woman who drove in a cool tone, losing whatever initial urgency and panic she might have had as they somehow, _somehow_ found themselves away from the world of Thomas Warren and Daeva Corp. Finally, on some untended backroad in a long-forgotten county, Alex found strength again to speak.

 

     "What the hell is going on here?" Coralee chuckled. It wasn't a warm laugh, per say, but Alex couldn't find it within her to describe the woman as cold, either.

 

     "Why don't you turn that recorder off," suggested the woman, the stranger with whom she felt already acquainted, but only distantly. Alex pursed her lips, frowning as she reached into her pocket, fingers dancing about the off button. It would be easy, to make her believe it was off. Surely Nic would understand... After all, this was Coralee! But she could see too in her mind the disappointment he would wear like a shroud, like he did every time he had to explain about journalism and ethics and the law, as though any of that were important in comparison to what was going on right now. Alex sighed.

 

     "I don't know that I should," she challenged, rather than going the route of trouble. "It isn't often that missing wives come back from the dead."

 

     "Alex." Coralee's expression became stern, her brows deepening as if she spoke to an unruly child. "Turn the recorder off."

 

     Within her pocket, there was a small click. Coralee held out her hand to retrieve the device, looking satisfied with this.

 

-

 

     They couldn't tell her much, Coralee explained as they traversed through the countryside, Alex's only view of the world beyond the van coming through the glass of the windshield ahead. _They couldn't tell her much. Naturally._ Coralee couldn't risk her listeners know everything that she's been doing, and Alex could be a little... overzealous at times. It was spoken kindly when it came from her, in a way that is entirely unlike Richard's blunt tone of speaking. Alex felt angry about the whole thing nonetheless, a sharp sting settling into her at not being trusted enough with this. Christ, this changed _everything_. She had so many questions she wanted to ask. How did it happen, where has she been hiding? Why did she run off? Why did she come back? Coralee agreed to meet her halfway, to give her a tease of the full story. She squeezed Alex's leg in a way that the journalist assumed was meant to be reassuring, leant over to look into Alex's eyes with her own, deep and soulful. The touch sent electricity up her spine, made her shiver at the contact. Alex wanted to look away as that hand retreated oh so slowly, but the lingering memory of her touch and the dominance of Coralee's gaze kept her own fixed. It was only as Coralee settled back against the artificial leather of the seat that Alex relaxed fully again.

 

     "I left Richard because of Thomas Warren," Coralee began. "He'd been following the Strands, Richard in particular, for a small number of years when I first met them both. I attended college with Richard, and Thomas had introduced himself to me at a coffee shop. He'd described himself then as a researcher into ancient and lost mythogy, part of my studies at university. It was Warren who introduced me to Richie-" Doctor Strand flinched at this name, "when I was in my first year of studies. Richard was a number of years older than myself, on the cusp of graduating, and Thomas had told me he'd heard of his genius through one of his other friends. Thomas was always very... Encouraging of our relationship, though he had never himself met Richard. It wasn't until several months after we had begun to go steady that Warren told me how else he had heard of Richard - about his father's works. Richard had never mentioned them, or anything about his family, so naturally I was curious, but every time I broached the subject, Richard skirted about it."

 

     "For good reason," Doctor Strand replied bitterly. "I knew several insidious figures were interested in my father and his collection. Had I known the source of your curiosities I would have urged you to cease contact immediately."

 

     "Yes." Coralee nodded disinterestedly. "Well I'm afraid it's a bit late for all of that. I myself didn't know anything about how invested Thomas was in Howard Strand's work until after Richard and I were married, anyway. We would stop for coffee every few months, Thomas and I, and at each he seemed to somehow find a way to broach the topic. It became a source of his frustration that I knew so little about Richard's father -which I could at first attribute to his eagerness and dedication to his research. Howard did, after all, have a number of artifacts which would have been the heart of a curator's collection."

 

     Alex interrupted her. "And you didn't suspect anything?"

 

     "Not until later." Coralee shook her head. "Charlie was ten by time I came to realize that Thomas had grown obsessed with Howard, and Richard by extension. He began demanding that I tell him more, would question me on when the last time Richard had spoken to his father was, or if I knew anything about his writings. When Howard died I thought I was free of it, until Thomas started requesting his papers, or old artifacts. At first I said no, and it was then that he began threatening Charlie's life if I refused, or told Richard what was happening. He would meet me at motels at odd hours to discuss how I would obtain documents for him. For three years this went on, until his attention turned to a specific paper he thought would lead him to something great, something powerful. When I failed to find it, his frustration grew."

 

     "And that was when you faked your disappearance?" Alex inferred, worrying at her lower lip as she longed to again have her recorder. For a moment she thought about seeking out her cell phone, but thought better, hands remaining as they were. Again, Coralee nodded. 

 

   "I knew I had to get away from the situation, and I couldn't tell Richard for fear of endangering him further. Things had been tense between us already, and it wasn't hard to encourage the argument the day I went missing. I'm sure you've had more than one lover's quarrel with him," she added, causing a flush crept up Alex's neck as her eyes quickly cast away from Coralee. The elder woman managdd a faint smile then, her fingers again squeezing at Alex's knee and spreading warmth through her. Then, the touch dissipated, and they were left to her story. Alex spoke first.

 

     "Where did you go? When you left Ric- Doctor Strand?"

 

     "Oh, here and there. I had a P.O. box, as you discovered early on. I'd had a few papers stored away that would help me begin my new life, and for a time it was as happy as the circumstances would let it be."

 

     "And then?" Alex prompted. But Coralee shook her head, the van scraping to a halt. Alex looked up, discovered they were outside of a familiar looking house. It was Terry's, she could vaguely see the dogs upon the back patio, their heads eagerly raised at the sound of a vehicle approaching.

 

     "That is a story for another time." She smiled once more, drew open the van door. Richard climbed out first, looking hesitatingly back at the woman who was his wife once before starting on ahead to the door. There in the van, Coralee placed a hand upon Alex's cheek, her almond-shaped nail sweeping against the tender flesh before coming to rest upon her lips. "Do take care of my husband, Alex," she said in a low tone before her touch retreated, leaving only its memory upon her skin.


	3. Chapter 3

     They laid like wounded wolves in Terry's home as time inched by such that a moment seem like an hour, and an hour would seem to be an eternity, waiting for word. They knew that their homes were not safe, that her studio could be at risk, that even Richards offices could not be guaranteed. Their respective workplaces had been calmly emptied (not without question from Ruby and concern from Nic) and they waited. And waited. Alex's thoughts too long lingered upon the mysteries that lay like angry serpents slithering disobediently before them, and not for the first time, she thought of how dangerous her life has become. Not for the first time, she thought that she should have stopped at ten calls, should've never sent the eleventh or contacted anyone else in connection to Strand. But the voice in the back of her mind reminded her that there was no imaginable version of the past in which she would take that route -she felt connected to Strand, like their stories had been meant to intertwine. Maybe he thought the same too. Maybe Doctor Strand believed they were meant to connect like this, though stopping to believe in fate was not like Strand.

     Speaking of Strand... Alex's gaze casted his way, took in the sight of the man who sat stoically, with such a distance in his eyes that they might've been two whole worlds away. He had looked out the windows for hours cupping the tea Terry had made them both, until steam had chilled and it sat frigid within the mug. There was a searching expression on his face, a longing for the woman who had disappeared and left him without a wife for the second time.

     "Doctor Strand?"

     Terry had stepped out of the room some time before, to give them space. She'd sat quiet with him, but did not think she could maintain such silence for much longer. Alex wasn't sure that he'd heard her, not until the mug landed delicately upon the slim teak coffee table, pale white against the rich, uncluttered design. His eyes connected to hers -they seemed older than she had recalled them. Alex stood, crossed the room in a feat of what felt almost like bravery. Her own mug, ginger and green tea, was beside his own and empty, drained in her searching for purpose as they waited.

     Alex placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

     A hint of a smile, more fragile than the mug he had sat aside, sprang distantly to life at the far corners of his lips. "Thank you."

     It wasn't an answer. She wanted to press him, to know more of what he meant by this, but the part of her that was his friend knew she should not. Instead she kept her hand upon his arm and let her eyes wander too out the window. She was quiet, silent, until he turned to her.

     "I knew when she left that it had to do with Warren. I hadn't known who he was at the time -he was a stranger, an unconnected face at one end of a mystery I had perceived to be of an opposite source. But I thought... I had hoped, in my desperation, that I might still find her. There were woods lining the highway near where Coralee disappeared, and I had hoped... If I could only find her there. I thought she had simply gotten angry with me... When I couldn't find her by normal means..." He drew a breath, the shaking laugh which escaped his lips harsh and short. "It was delusional, but the human mind does not function properly when under a state of panic."

     "You thought you could find her the way you found Bobby Maines."

     "I hoped." Richard sighed. "I'd convinced myself in my desperation that maybe magic was real -that these charlatans could do the things they said they could. It was a foolish belief, built on old and distant memories and more emotion than logic. I wandered alone in the woods for days, looking for my wife."

     "When did you know she was alive?"

     Richard dred a deep breath, let it exhale. Alex couldn't help but notice the weight upon him, the dullness of his features. "She contacted me after the podcast had begun. When Coralee left, she'd been running from Warren and his organization. The podcast-"

     "It exposed her," Alex interjected. Richard nodded.

     "She knew that she wouldn't be able to stay hidden forever. Stories like ours tend to attract media attention at some point, and well, I never was a shy figure in my realm of science. The Black Tapes made it harder for her to hide. Suddenly a vast number of people had taken an interest in her -it presented a very tough situation."

     Alex felt a sinking in her stomach. She hadn't thought about that -about the danger she was putting Coralee in by airing her show. But then again, she couldn't have known. Richard Strand.... Coralee. They were a journalist's dream, secrets wrapped into mystery and intrigue. She couldn't resist delving deeper, no matter how much good sense, the word of even better friends, and journalistic integrity taught her she should. Alex found herself silent as she looked at him, unable to draw her eyes from the mess she had created.

     "I'm sorry," she finally murmured. Strand turned his head her way, a silent question written into the furrowing of his brows.

     "That you lost her again."

     Doctor Strand could only smile then, small and untrue as it were.


	4. Chapter 4

     Alex Reagan would likely never be admit how comfortable she felt to lay against Doctor Strand in the quiet of Terry's house, his dogs sprawled at their feet as they sat quietly together. At some point deep into the night she fell to sleep against his shoulder, the high of the day falling away from her body and leaving her more drained than insomnia alone typically did. Richard had eased his arm about her as she dreamt, until she had slumped over against him, head upon his lap. At some point Terry had crept through the darkened living room, Doctor Strand stoically sat with Alex comfortably asleep against him, and said not a word as he passed into the further halls of his home. The dogs had jumped up to follow after then, and still Alex had slept, not to be jolted awake but for the flash of bright blue headlights breaking open the night.

     "Richard?" She raised her head groggily to look through the wide glass windows, blinking and squinting at the two suns which had appeared suddenly upon the midnight horizon. As though she were something fragile and precious, Richard slipped her head from his lap, pressing a finger to his lips. He had a sort of paranoid alertness which she soon adapted, jumping up to look out after him. From the car, a figure stalked forward, each step purposefully measured. Alex's heart began to pound as she saw Strand cast in the light of the car, his shadow meeting with that of the other, of the stranger. _What was going on? Who was out there?_ As Strand slowed, Alex's heart did the opposite, could only race faster yet, a child running from shadows she longed not to see.

     Strand's shoulders relaxed. It was minute, but the action caused a ceasing in the blood that rushed through her ears. Sleep now gone from her entirely, Alex would slowly rise, padding across the hardwood floor towards the door. With as much ease as she could, and as silently as possible, Alex drew it open.

     "Richard?" she called out nervously. Doctor Strand turned, and in the dim moonlight Alex could see the face of the man beyond him. She blinked once, twice. Surely that couldn't be...

     "Tannis?"

     The man laughed into the night, and, for a moment, Alex wondered if the sound was one which would meet his perpetually smiling green eyes. "In the flesh."

     "But-" The word didn't even have time to fully form on her tongue.

     "No time to explain. Richard and I have to get going."

     "Then I'm coming with you." It was exactly the knee-jerk reaction Nic had been warning her against since the Black Tapes and, admittedly, before. Their college years had been so chaotic it could almost be called a miracle that she had survived to graduation. But there was no time for anyone to call Nic, no time for her roommate to shout out the door at her with the receiver in her hand, her childhood companion racing to stop her from whatever mischief she might be getting into. This wasn't university anymore, this was more real than that, and Tannis wasn't arguing. He threw open the door, until the only thing standing in her way was...

     "Richard." Alex looked into his eyes. She wasn't backing down, not now, not ever. "Don't you think you should move?"

     He almost seemed to flinch when she said his name. Alex softened, she wondered if he was remembering Coralee again. He spoke before she could make herself fool enough to ask.

     "I'm not sure that's wise," Doctor Strand warned. "Alex..." He took a breath, sighed, shuffled his feet. "I don't know what I might do, if you were..." Again his voice trailed, with the sort of hesitance of a person drawing closer towards the edge of a cliff, knowing not how deep it extends to the valleys below. "This trip will be dangerous." He was perching on the brink now, in the edge of sensibilities, whatever responsibility he felt toward her, and the whatever monster lay in the great beyond.

    "The Black Tapes are already dangerous," Alex argued. And like a wind to a feather she pushed him gently over. Doctor Strand deflated before her, his eyes seeming to age a hundred years in a second. They were pleading. It was the same look her mother had when Alex had told her she liked girls. The first time she'd ever been in love with a woman. It was resigned and fearful, and Alex would have despised it now as she might have them, if she didn't understand, to some degree. It had been dangerous then, in its own ways, to be as she was. Things were dangerous now too, only the stakes were much different.

     "Alex," Doctor Strand whispered. Her name was like the gospel from a broken man. "Alex."

     "I'm going with you, Richard." She placed her hand at his shoulder, and he didn't flinch this time. Gentle, reassuring, Alex looked into his eyes. "I started this with you -we'll finish it together."

     Doctor Strand sighed, and he raised his hand to fold his fingers atop hers in a comfortable grasp. The world paused, Alex's breath went out of her and for a moment it was just the two of them.

     "Let's go kick some ass and get your wife back," she breathed. Strand huffed out something like a laugh, without character and presence. His hand slipped from hers, like he might lose touch if he didn't give it away willingly. Richard stepped away, Alex walked past him. Then, she heard him cough.

     "Alex-"

     She turned. "Are you certain?" Strand asked.

    "I am."

     She wasn't. But the story was ahead, not behind. She couldn't turn back now.


	5. Chapter 5

     Alex was quiet. Though the initial panic had jolted her awake, the subsiding adrenaline left her weary, the road ahead seeming a dark blur punctuated by the occasional streak of headlights from a passing car. She longed for something to do, something with which to occupy her hands and her mind. Alex hadn't minded driving once, back before all of this. She and Nic had been road-trip junkies once even. Her handbag had actually come from a flee market expedition they'd taken together. Now, however, driving -riding- left her with too much time at hand, too much room for thinking, for a curious mind to drift. She drummed her fingers nervously against her knees, her back to the door in what she was certain was a violation of several road safety rules. Alex didn't care. A car wreck wasn't like to kill her unless she was the one driving, she told herself. Maybe it was a dramatization -there was a reason she'd chosen this medium of journalism- but it held a certain degree of... plausibility. Before, Alex wouldn't have wanted to dwell on her own death, and though she still did not like to, she worried that a clean death was beyond her reach. Besides, she thought to herself as she gazed into the extending darkness, she had learned. There were worse things than the inevitable.

     She cast her eyes ahead. They'd been driving along back roads for hours now, and she could not fathom to where they might be going. She could not imagine what they were doing. When Braun had arrived, when Richard said he was going with him, Alex had acted on impact. Of course she wouldn't be left behind. She was a journalist and, despite the complexities of their relationship, she considered herself Strand's friend. However, her abrupt decision making has left her with gaps in her knowledge that craved to be filled. Alex opened her mouth to ask some number of the questions which had been tirelessly running through her mind, but just then Richard turned his head to Tannis.

     "How much longer?" he asked with that familiar, gruff baritone of his, the compassion, the pain, all of it gone, masked by Richard's growing impatience. It was a tone Alex recognized all too well. It had, after all, been directed at her more than once.

     "Another twenty minutes -it was the only discrete place she could find."

     Strand huffed, and Alex assumed the _she_ that they were talking about was Coralee, that Doctor Strand's enigma of a wife had set herself deeper into the fibers of this mystery. It was hard now, to unsee her within this, this - whatever this was. Over time a web had formed, woven tightly together until one thing could not be disentangled from the other, until the separate threads had branched off into each other and formed bonds which, however vague and questionable they were, demanded not to be ignored. The only thing that Alex Reagan could be certain of, was that the Strands -Howard, Coralee, Richard- were in some way central to all of this. To the story she had stumbled upon.

     "Where are we going?" she asked then, instead of trying to make sense of frayed and torn yarn.

     "South America."

"What?" Alex's brows furrowed tightly together. Tannis exchanged a look with Richard, a sort of hesitance taming his features. Alex realized he was giving Richard the choice, letting Doctor Strand take the reins of her fate. A shock of irritation shook through her, a runaway coal train soon to spill its heat. But then Doctor Strand nodded, minute as the action was, and the metal wheels found their rails again. Doctor Strand began to speak.

     "The cave paintings near Bath, and those in New Mexico, are not isolated incidents. There are others like it. Those in South America are the largest of the ones we -Coralee- has found."

     "And the caves... What are their importance?" Her head felt strange, heavy with the weight of too much information being compiled at once. She wondered if this was what a computer would feel like, if it could feel. Alex winced at the thought, it sounded too much like something Nic would say.

     "Coralee, and Thomas Warren for that matter, believe that they were built as gateways. There are five in total, each depicting various scenes. The Conduction, I believe they're called."

    "The... Conduction?" Alex repeated slowly. She squeezed her eyes tight, remembered the way that the cave paintings had looked. A realization washed over her. "In their hands... Were those..."

     "Instruments." Doctor Strand nodded. "That's what Coralee thinks as well. According to information we've gathered, Thomas Warren believes that the "gates" will open only after the five notes of the Apocalypse have been played."

     Alex was dubious. Even with her ethics slipping, she knew as a journalist that she shouldn't simply trust sources which had no names. But there was no weighing of the pros and of the cons here, no way to decide. She would have to trust him at his word. Yet, at the same time, a creeping of doubt began to climb over her back, skittering over her flesh disconcertingly.

     "Why does this matter to you? I thought you didn't-" She thought of their conversation. About how desperate he had been when Coralee disappeared. "Believe," she provided slowly, dully, the word half dead as it fell from her tongue lamely.

     "Thomas Warren believes the five notes must be played by Lamashtu's Lambs. Ancient texts describe children with what would be considered as preternatural abilities -foresight, for instance. Bilocation. In these texts, the children had been especially marked by the goddess Lamashtu. Their power, it was said, was derived from an ancient evil older than the goddess herself, given to them when they were marked by agents of the goddess, worshippers of her."

     "Simon Reese," Alex inferred, a short leap to take. Strand nodded, his eyes staring straight ahead with a chalkboard gaze, not exhaustion but something else, a piece of the human condition Alex wasn't entirely sure there were words to describe. Be reminded her of the birds mounted atop pendulums, physical entity capable of action but lacking in emotion. Guarded was a kind name to call it. Tannis Braun looked over.

     "Tell her the other thing, Richard."

     "What other thing?"

     Doctor Strand heaved a deep and heavy sigh, refusing to look back, too afraid it would seem, to meet her eye.

     "Thomas Warren believes that this curse, or mark, of Lamastu's is genetically carried. He's inferred that I carry the same gene as these so-called 'lambs.' And by extension-"

     "Charlie."

     Richard sighed. He seemed much older now, not in a physical sense but in the manner of a man who has endured too many tragedies for any number of years to account for.

     "Thomas Warren is an excessively dangerous man who only has thought for himself and the ends which he strives to achieve. He is wrapped into a delusion that ancient Sumerian gods actually exist, and worse yet, that he might somehow be able to raise them using a form of ritual sacrifice. We believe, from what Coralee has been able to gather, that Warren has developed a specific idea of how the notes must be played." Richard drew a deep breath, and Alex saw the strain that was building within him. He always was tense, always looked so exhausted, but it was far worse now. She thought she could understand -he had more secrets than she could have guessed. Alex did not interrupt, but listened as he continued. "From what Coralee understands, Warren has theorized from the texts that, once the notes have been played, an offering must be made to the ancient evil to summon it forth."

     "An offering?" Alex softly echoed.

     "A lamb. In this case, more than one."

     Alex's lips formed the shape of an 'o,' and for a moment in her horror she could say nothing at all.


End file.
